


Light Under His Skin

by MusicalLuna



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, Good natured ribbing, Hickies, Inexperience, Kissing, Love Bites, M/M, Making Out, Making out is fun!, New Relationship, Semi-established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-09-15 22:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9261092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: Steve's never made time with anyone before, but he's about to get the best primer of his life from Tony Stark.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous requested: Tony gives Steve his first hickey and it sticks around just long enough for the avengers to see it! But can we plzzzz see tony give it to him? And the avengers? Sorry I'm greedy I love your writing..... :)

“So no make-outs for you before, huh?”  
  
Steve’s face has been on fire since the second they started this conversation. He rubs his hand over the back of his neck and he can feel the heat coming off of it against his palm. “I wasn’t much to look at before and after I was too busy fighting a war. It just didn’t seem too important.”  
  
Tony makes a dubious noise in the back of his throat. Then, after a moment of scrutiny that feels like it goes on for an eternity, he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and says, “This is going to be a lot of fun.”  
  
Steve looks up at him, surprised. “Fun?”  
  
“Yeah, are you kidding?” Tony says, and flops down on the couch, patting the cushion at his side. “Making out is great. Nothing like it. And there’s nothing like the first couple times. It’s weird and great and I’m saying great a lot, but trust me, it is.”  
  
Steve huffs and eases down onto the couch next to Tony. He doesn’t even realize how stiffly he’s sitting until Tony rolls his eyes and says, “At ease, soldier.”  
  
He flushes, heat under heat, and tries to sit back comfortably into the cushions. He’s too aware of his own body and the enormous shoulders the serum gave him, the long legs. Tony watches him shift—that doesn’t help—his chin propped on his elbow, which is propped on the back of the sofa, his legs curled up under him. “Yeah, I can see how this will be fun,” Steve mutters bitterly under his breath.  
  
“Hey now, none of that,” Tony says, flicking his shoulder. “You just need to relax.”  
  
“I’m going to be awful,” Steve says flatly.  
  
Tony purses his lips. “Now of all times you shed that easy confidence?”  
  
Steve grimaces. “Sorry.” He rubs his clammy palms over the knees of his slacks. “I’m nervous I guess.” Tony’s fingers settle into the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly and making his scalp tingle.  
  
“Preaching to the choir,” Tony says and Steve looks at him incredulously.  
  
“Come on, don’t pull my leg, Tony. I may not be experienced, but I wasn’t born yesterday.”  
  
“I’m not! I haven’t been this nervous in years.”  
  
Steve stares at him, and then pointedly eyes the easy way Tony’s draped on the couch.  
  
“I’ve had a lot of practice hiding it,” Tony says and then reaches for Steve’s hand. “C’mon, you don’t believe me. Feel.” He takes Steve’s hand, and moves it to his chest, pressing it just over the top of the arc reactor. After a minute, Steve can feel his heartbeat, beating even faster than Steve’s own.  
  
He looks up and Tony smiles at him a little crookedly. Then he pats Steve’s hand and drops his gaze. “So what are you familiar with?” he asks.  
  
Steve’s brow furrows. “Um. Kissing? I think it was Bucky who told me about Frenching. Daring guys try to get under clothes.”  
  
When he looks up, Tony’s right there and his breath catches in his chest. Tony’s lips brush against his cheekbone. “Do you want me to get daring?” he murmurs.  
  
Steve shivers.  
  
“Maybe… Maybe not tonight?” he says at last, faltering. His clothes feel too small. He wants Tony to get on with it already. The tension is killing him. “Will you just—”  
  
Tony cuts him off, mouth slanted over his, lips soft and warm and yielding. That’s familiar at least, and Steve lets himself enjoy it, his hand drifting to curl around Tony’s bicep. Tony kisses him softly, breaking between each for a hair’s breadth, his hands sliding leisurely along the muscles of Steve’s neck.  
  
It’s so reassuring that Steve is the first one to try and deepen the kiss.  
  
He has no idea what he’s doing, and opening his mouth feels strange and awkward, but Tony makes a pleased noise of surprise, breathes into his mouth, “And you were worried. Feel free to get daring, by the way, if the spirit moves you.”  
  
Steve feels his ears go hot, but that’s all Tony says, eyes slipping closed.  
  
Steve licks tentatively at Tony’s lower lip and is pleased to find he likes the way it feels, soft and silky against his tongue. He makes a soft humming noise when Tony seals their mouths together, tongue tracing the inside of his lips.  
  
Wow, that really is something.  
  
He turns a little so his legs aren’t facing the wrong direction and lets Tony take the lead again, Steve’s fingers clenching in the fabric of his shirt. When he realizes his hands aren’t moving—not like Tony’s—he shifts the left, awkwardly stroking Tony’s side.  
  
Tony hums into his mouth, lips curling in a smile. Steve’s stomach flutters.  
  
He’s surprised when Tony pulls back a little, laying careful kisses at the corners of Steve’s mouth before starting to move down his jaw. His mouth is a soft o of warm wetness, pressed gently into Steve’s skin over and over. It feels wonderful, like light trickling under his skin, pooling low in his belly.  
  
Tony drags his tongue along the tendon in Steve’s neck and he shudders.  
  
“You know what a hickey is?” Tony asks, voice husky.  
  
Steve tries to remember if he’s heard that word before.  
  
“Love bite?” Tony tries, and Steve recognizes that. He remembers Bucky swaggering home, smirking, with bruises on his neck. He nods. Tony nuzzles his throat. “Gonna give you one, ‘kay?”  
  
Steve doesn’t care he just wants Tony’s mouth on him again.  
  
Tony chuckles, low and throaty, like he knows what Steve’s thinking. “Well?” Steve demands. Tony laughs, kissing him slow and easy until it’s the only thing Steve is aware of—Tony’s mouth and Tony’s fingers on the bare skin at his waist. When Tony starts kissing toward his neck again, Steve can’t seem to catch his breath, every nerve on high alert.  
  
“Tony,” he breathes when the hot, wet heat of his mouth covers a patch of skin on his throat. The word feels strange, formed by swollen and tender lips. Tony sucks gently and Steve’s fingers tighten around his waist.  
  
“Good?” Tony murmurs and his tongue darts over the same spot. His calluses drag against the skin pulled tight over Steve’s ribs.  
  
Steve nods. As soon as the affirmative is given, Tony moves lower, right at the sensitive juncture of Steve’s neck. His tongue rolls over the skin, followed immediately with sharp, powerful suction that punches Steve right behind the bellybutton. Tony’s fingers scratch at his scalp again, mouth working relentlessly at Steve’s throat. He shifts around, repeating the same in other spots, adding in the sharp brightness of his teeth until Steve’s head is swimming.  
  
Then Tony sits back, breathing a little heavily, his eyes dark and glittering, and assesses his handiwork. “Not too shabby,” he says, and grins.  
  
Steve drags Tony back down and repays the favor.

  
~

  
“Jesus, Stark,” Clint says, when Steve ambles out into the communal kitchen the next morning. “I think you’re supposed to pay for jewelry.”  
  
Steve looks over at Tony, confused.  
  
He’s sitting at the far end of the counter clutching a coffee cup, his hair going every direction at once. He barely looks half awake, but sure seems pleased with himself. “No one asked you, Barton,” he says cheerfully. His eyes are still sparkling when he looks at Steve, smile softening and warming into something that tugs at Steve’s belly. “‘Morning, Sunshine.”  
  
Steve can’t help smiling back. He scrubs at his hair, a little embarrassed by the avid gazes of their teammates. “Morning, Tony. Everyone.”  
  
He gets a round of hellos in return and Tony’s crooked finger, beckoning him over.  
  
“Give us a kiss,” he says, tilting his face up as Steve approaches.  
  
Steve indulges him with a peck, his still-swollen lips throbbing a little at the contact. As he straightens back up, his eyes catch on a red and purple smear peeking out from behind the collar of Tony’s robe. He reaches to thumb the fabric out of the way and to his surprise, Tony tips his head to the side obligingly.  
  
“Oh, you’re kidding,” Clint says, “matching set? That’s just corny.”  
  
“Shut up, Barton,” Tony sing-songs.  
  
Steve’s groggy brain is slow in putting the pieces together, but finally he reaches up to touch his own neck, realizing what Clint must mean.  
  
“You must have enjoyed yourself a great deal last night,” Thor says, striding through the doorway with two coffee mugs in hand.  
  
Steve’s face flushes scarlet. “Uh.”  
  
Natasha leans in close to peer at his throat. “This is good work, Stark.”  
  
“Thank you,” Tony says, grinning fit to break his face.  
  
Bruce looks more dubious. “Those don’t hurt, Steve?”  
  
They do, now he’s thinking about it, a sort of twinge just under his skin. But that just reminds him of the sensation of Tony’s mouth in the same place. Which he really should not think about in the company of their friends. “It’s fine,” he says, hurriedly.  
  
That’s when Sam comes through the door. He scans the room, throwing out a casual, “Hey, all,” and is halfway to the fridge before he stops dead in his tracks and does an about face, eyes wide. “Damn.”  
  
Steve remembers giving the Commandos hell when they used to show up after a night in town and wonders why it didn’t occur to him to brace for this.  
  
Sam points at his own neck. “Have you seen—”  
  
“No, actually,” Steve says.

He can hear Natasha murmuring to Tony, “I’m impressed that you got him to let you do that.”  
  
He frowns at her. “Tony didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.”  
  
Then the sound of a shutter goes off, not too far from his ear and he turns back to find Sam standing with his phone outstretched. “Seriously, man,” he says, “I don’t think you’re going to want to go out in public for a couple days.”  
  
He turns the phone around and Steve takes it, peering at the little screen. His hand jumps to his neck again when he sees it. “That’s what it looks like?”  
  
“Uh, worse,” Sam says. “Camera isn’t picking it up in all it’s majesty.”  
  
There are bruises like the one on Tony’s neck, but more vivid with dark centers ringed in red looped around his neck like a collar.  
  
He glances down at Tony, mouth hanging open, and for the first time since he walked in, Tony isn’t smiling. “Too much?”  
  
Steve looks at Tony’s red lips, then back at the photo. “No,” he says. “I want a better look.”  
  
The unadulteratedly happy smile that spreads over Tony’s face makes whatever comes next absolutely, totally worth it.


End file.
